


Revan's Survivor

by BeaconHill



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Revan Didn't Lose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2020-10-10 09:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaconHill/pseuds/BeaconHill
Summary: Bastila Shan wakes up in a medical bay, after Darth Malak's attempt at backstabbing his master ends up defeating the Jedi sent to fight Revan instead. She figures she must have been rescued – why would the Sith save her? But the short, tiny healer turns out to not at all be who she expected...





	1. Medbay

When I came to, my whole body ached, the deep wound in my gut burning as if the lightsaber were still there. But someone had healed me. I could still feel the faint cooling tingle of kolto, though I wasn't in a tank – I was lying down on a very soft infirmary bed. I tried to sit up, but found I couldn't move – my body was restrained, tied down to the bed, and my arm prickled where IV needles broke the skin.  
  
Had someone rescued me from Revan's flagship after all? I thought I was lost...  
  
My eyes fluttered open to see an array of medical gear above me, with bright blinking lights and readouts I had no hope of deciphering. And then I realized there was someone standing above me, hiding in the shadows between the gadgets, and I flinched.  
  
She was a girl still, probably a little younger than me – an untidy mop of pure white curls framed sparkling blue eyes, a cute little snub nose, and ink-black skin. She wore simple robes – black, but not ostentatious like Sith robes. Instead, they were soft and tight-looking, not even leather or heavy wool like most Jedi robes, but something lighter, maybe cotton. They weren't a fighter's robes – they were a healer's, even though two lightsabers hung at her belt.  
  
And if she was a healer, then I had been rescued. I was safe.  
  
"You're awake," she said, a slight smile on her face. "Good to see you up, Bastila. When I brought you in, the doctors said you wouldn't wake up for weeks, maybe ever, but I knew they were wrong. They don't know the power of the Force."  
  
"W-where am I?" I asked. "Dantooine? A Republic ship? And... how long have I been out?"  
  
"You've been out for two days, most of it spent in a kolto tank," she said. Her voice was remarkably calm. She had a very distinct accent – probably a noble one, going by the precise diction, but definitely not Alderaan or Coruscant standard. I kind of liked it, actually. "You're in the medical bay of the Imperial flagship _Infinite_."  
  
"Then we need to get out of here! I-if Revan finds us... we have to go!"  
  
Her eyes widened with surprise, and she tilted her head, thinking for a moment. "Well, you are on Revan's flagship," she said slowly. "She's rarely far away." I flinched, finally realizing that she was a Sith, and she smirked, her eyes sparkling. "What, you thought I was a Jedi? Nope! Sorry, Bastila. So, what do you remember about how you got your injury?"  
  
I only glared at her in response. Why didn't I realize? I mean, she did look like a healer, which Sith usually weren't, but still, it wasn't totally hidden. Her face bore the distinctive signs of corruption, though she'd escaped the worst of it – ashy grey veins were just barely visible against her black skin, and her eyes looked faintly milky, a slight haze over their vibrant blue.  
  
"Go on, talk," she said. "If nothing else, we want to make sure you didn't suffer any brain damage. Revan saw the whole thing, anyway, and a secret isn't really _secret_ when the Dark Lord knows it."  
  
I sighed. She was right – there was no point to staying silent. "I... I was fighting Revan when the whole bridge exploded. I was blown across the room – _I landed on Revan's lightsaber!_" I started to tremble, even remembering it – that black-and-red masked face the last thing I saw, as the life faded from my body. "What _happened_? Why am I even alive?"  
  
"The explosion that nearly killed you was Revan's apprentice firing on his master. Malak thought he could stab Revan in the back while she was distracted with you Jedi." She smiled, letting that hang in the air for a few seconds. "Malak is now dead."  
  
"S-so... Revan captured me?" I closed my eyes, letting the pain wash over me for a second. It was bad – but I could tell that I was going to survive. "I should be dead too, then. Even if the explosion didn't kill me... she would."  
  
She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Why do Jedi always assume we Sith are all baby-eating maniacs? I mean, you were on the mission to capture Revan – _someone_ must have told you about her, right? Zhar or Vrook would _have_ to know better. No, Revan and I have no love of indiscriminate bloodshed."  
  
"I don't need to _understand_ her to stop her!"  
  
"Or they thought knowing might pose a _temptation_," she said, her wicked smirk returning to her face. She leaned over me, looking into my eyes. "You're the powerful young Padawan who went to war, the savior of the Republic. Who do you think you remind the Masters of?"  
  
"I... I am not like Revan!" But I had heard the whispers. I felt my face burning. She was right, somehow. The Masters had talked about Revan, but they told me not to show up for the briefing, that I was there for my battle meditation and dueling skill, but _knowledge like that was not for any Padawan's ears_, and... Ugh. She was right, and that burned.  
  
"How can you be sure you're not like Revan?" she said, clearly amused by my turmoil. "You wouldn't even know her face without the mask on, would you? So whenever you meet her... you won't have a clue."  
  
"Enough of the damn mind games!" I yelled. "Who healed me? Who saved me? _Why?_"  
  
"Sorry, Bastila, I know I'm getting a bit intense..." She sighed. "I healed you with the Force. You would have died without me. Darth Malak was my husband, so... I had to reconsider some things, after he died. I didn't want any more death, even of a stubborn Jedi like you." She smiled again, a little bit wanly. "Which, apparently, was enough to let me heal again. It's been a while. Don't know if I can hold onto that... but I'll try."  
  
I blinked. So... she actually _wants_ to regain her grasp of the Light Side? Interesting. And if I could redeem her completely — would she let me escape? "I can help with that," I said. "Healing isn't exactly my _specialty_, but I've done a good bit of it. I know the kind of mindset—"  
  
"Healing _is_ one of my specialties," she said. "I was very surprised when I lost it – with a clearer head, I think that was probably because of the side effects of an artifact I use. I'll meditate on how to avoid that next time."  
  
"The Dark Side will _always_ take that away from you. And after what Revan did... what the _Dark Side_ did... to your husband... is this really who you want to be? You can always turn ba—"  
  
"_Absolutely not_," she said, her voice icy. "When Malak betrayed Revan, he betrayed _me_. I will not regret what we _had_ to do." Then she sighed, and I could see her face relax. "Though I'm proud to see that you're already trying to sow discord. I was right – the Dark Side is strong with you."  
  
"What? I'm not—" I gritted my teeth, sucked in a breath. She was just trying to get to me. _There is no passion, there is serenity,_ I reminded myself, trying to calm down. _I am not Dark, and she won't change me._ "I have no idea what you're taking about."  
  
"Right, like you weren't just struggling for control in front of me." She rolled her eyes. "Well, that is a _darn_ shame, because you've got an opportunity that most of the galaxy would _kill_ for. Now that my husband is dead, Darth Revan is short an apprentice. And with you being the most famous Jedi of the Republic, she thinks you're worth a shot."  
  
I gasped. The Sith really wanted me that badly? Revan really... respected me... that much? It was almost overwhelming. _The Dark Lord herself..._  
  
Then an oily suspicion spread across my mind, and I mentally kicked myself for my moment of weakness – for listening to the Sith, even for a moment.  
  
"So, where's Revan? Why are you here instead?" I glared at the woman in front of me. "If she really wanted me as her apprentice, surely she'd tell me herself. This is some kind of Sith trick, isn't it?"  
  
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Revan... wants to ease you into things. Her in her full regalia – the mask and the robes and the boots and the cloak are _meant_ to intimidate, and that's not the way to tempt you to the Dark Side. So instead you get me." She motioned to herself. "See, I'm five foot one and I look like a teenager. You'd _better_ not be scared of me. And Revan is perfectly content to just wait til you're ready for her. Besides, you've got a lot of basics to brush up on. No point breaking out the Dark Lord for _that_."  
  
Then she blinked, long and slow, and stared directly at me, her perfect eye contact practically an engraved invitation for me to look into them and see the truth of her words.  
  
"But make no mistake: you _are_ her apprentice, and she will be watching your progress very closely. Every word we say, she will know."  
  
I frowned. She had told the truth, sure as the Force. But I was certain that she was hiding something... I frowned. I wasn't sure, but there was no harm in guessing. "Basics. Right. So y-you'll be the one to break me for Revan, then?"  
  
She sighed. "You've been listening to too many stories, Bastila. Let me clear a few things up: I'm not going to torture you, I'm not even going to _touch_ you. I won't tell you about how everyone in your life was just using you, or holding you back, or anything like that. You won't have to feel hate, at all. Your Jedi Masters tell you not to feel any emotion because the Dark Side can be rooted in any emotion – mine, for a very long time, came from my unwillingness to accept evil in the galaxy. It's why I fought the Mandalorians. And... lately, it seems that it does once more." I raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. "We're going to talk. I'm going to show you a better way, and you're going to accept it." She held up a hand as I started to open my mouth. "Don't tell me you won't. I have experience with these things."  
  
"I... I'm sure you won't corrupt me," I whispered.  
  
"Of course I don't want to _corrupt_ you, Bastila," she said with a slight smile. "I want to heal you. I want you to grow strong and willful, and be all that you can be." She reached down, and laid her palm on my forehead, and I could feel the faint tingle of healing. "But you're a bit weak to start learning now. Once you've recovered, we can begin. I'll put you back to sleep, for now..."  
  
"Wait!" I said. "Who... who are you?"  
  
"Good question," she said with a frown. "I... actually expected you to recognize me, but since you don't... for now, call me Raga."  
  
Then the tingles on my forehead overtook me, and I fell asleep.


	2. Stockholm Syndrome

I sat on my bed, wondering why Raga was so late. She'd remained my healer – she was almost as good as Master Vrook, much to my surprise – and under her care, I had gotten a lot stronger. Most of the medical equipment was dormant now – I had just one IV line left, and a few sensors. I could even walk around the room – though, prisoner that I was, I couldn't leave it. At least, not until I was ready to escape.  
  
The door slid open, and I spun around – just in time to see HK-47 walking through it, a tray piled high with food in his arms. Raga's droid, he'd been assigned as my fake nurse so he could act as a subtle bodyguard – with so many medical droids around, one more would be unobtrusive. And since he, Raga, and a few particularly trusted doctors were the only people allowed in my room, he actually was doing most of the nursing duties.  
  
"Advisement: Lunch is served," he said, handing me the tray where I sat. Flapflim breasts with juberry sauce, chopped redroot, whipped tubers and dripping sauce. Galactic-standard comfort food. I took a bite – it was every bit as delicious as it smelled.  
  
"Thanks, HK," I said, before digging in. The food on the _Infinite_ was consistently great. Real ingredients too, I was pretty sure. Republic ships tended to serve synthesizer slop, or canteen food that tasted little better. Then again, this was the Imperial flagship – perhaps there were a few Republic command ships with the same kind of service. "Do you know where Raga is?" she asked. "She was supposed to be here this morning."  
  
"Apology: Indeed, the master is quite late. She had business on another ship. Reminder: don't forget to take your medicine."  
  
"Said like a real nurse droid." I smirked at him – he really was being oddly docile this morning – and downed the cupful of pills, washing it down with my glass of Rim milk.  
  
"Objection: My databanks contain full nursing protocols!" he said. "Many bodyguards do not verify the identity of nursing droids nor the specific medications used, making this occupation the perfect cover for a highly skilled assassin droid."  
  
"So you're _designed_ to kill your patients, is what you're saying."  
  
"Affirmation: I am designed to kill all target meatbags. However, you are only a patient, and not a target. Therefore, I will make no attempt to kill you."  
  
"Huh. So you really are turning into a nurse droid, then." I smiled, as a very Raga-ish joke came to mind. "Next you'll show up in a real nurse uniform – white cap, short skirt, and everything!"  
  
"Admission: The Master _really_ wanted me to." I started to laugh. Force, why was everyone on this ship so _funny_? "She only desisted when I pointed out that no other medical droids wore them." He paused for a second, sizing me up. "Observation: She's rubbing off on you. I like that."  
  
I blinked. "I..." The appropriate response flashed into my head: _Of course not! I am a Jedi. People don't rub off on us._ Not angry or offended – because Jedi weren't – but serene in a way that non-Jedi tended to interpret as dismissiveness or condescension. But the truth was, HK was right. I hadn't learned anything of the Sith from Raga – she hadn't even tried to teach me any of that yet. But her humor, her liveliness, her energy – that, yes, I had learned from. I felt guilty, but I actually kind of liked it. Maybe the Republic soldiers wouldn't think I was such a stick in the mud when I got back. "That's just Stockholm Syndrome talking."  
  
"A worthy excuse," HK said. "Suggestion: Sith mind control?"  
  
"I'll keep it in mind," I punned, and right then I heard the metallic sound of the door sliding open.  
  
My head swung around just in time to see Raga finally walk in, looking exhausted – at least, I was pretty sure that was regular exhaustion, and not just the Dark Side. She wore the tight, pleated leather suit that many Sith wore under their robes, her cloak lying folded in her arms. She wore big, almost knee-high combat boots that had to have three or four inches of lifts in them – she was almost as tall as me with them on. It probably would have made her more intimidating if I didn't know how short she really was, but the thought of the big bad Sith wearing lifts was more funny than anything.  
  
"Hi, Bastila!" she said. "Sorry I'm late, cleaning up after this whole failed coup thing has been _such_ a mess. She handed her cloak to HK. "Put that back in my room for me, will you?" Raga said.  
  
"Resignation: Yes, Master." He slunk out the door, head down.  
  
"Huh. You know, I actually think HK likes you," Raga said, grinning at me. "Usually he'd be overjoyed to get away from the meatbags."  
  
"You're his master," I said, rolling my eyes. "He likes everyone you like."  
  
"Hah, no way! He hated Mako, and I married the man!" She smiled widely at me, before stopping to think for a second. She often seemed discomforted by memories of Malak. But in the end, she shrugged and kept talking. "So I was held up interrogating this admiral – Saul Karath, I served alongside him in the Mandalorian War, very well-respected, very straight-laced, we were so glad when he signed on with the Sith. He went to Mako's side."  
  
"The Butcher of Telos," I said grimly.  
  
"Yup, that's him," Raga said, sitting down on the bed next to me. "I was angry with him after that. So anyway, he tried to cut and run when Mako died, but he didn't get very far – the crew was loyal, so when they realized he was a traitor they turned on him and brought the ship back to port. And I was interrogating him, and the moment I stepped into the room he started rambling about _the power of the Dark Side_ and stuff. Which was weird, since Revan never talked like that. Not even Mako ever talked like that. I was baffled for the longest time, until he said something about _the apprentice must defeat the master_, and I suddenly realized." She pulled a face of exaggerated shock and horror. "_My god. How many Sith movies have you watched?!_"  
  
I burst into laughter, just barely undercut by a twinge of guilt: _what would Master Vrook think of you, sitting there and joking with a Sith?_ The voice had been getting softer every day. "He _didn't_!" I said, gasping for breath as surely as if she'd choked me.  
  
"He did! Like, he just sat there and _stared_. He didn't say anything for like _thirty seconds_. And then he started making these pitiful excuses. It was ridiculous." She smiled, shook her head. "You get the weirdest people in the Sith, I'm telling you. Republic wasn't half this bad." She looked back to me. "You ever watch any Sith movies, Bastila?"  
  
"They were banned at the Enclave," I said automatically. Then I thought back further. "But... my mother used to watch these potboiler Sith romance holos. They were always the same: terrifying Sith abducts beautiful Jedi, tortures her a little, she teaches him how not to be so evil, and they marry."  
  
"Oh, _really_?" Raga said, grinning like she'd just caught a shooting star.  
  
It took me a second to realize what I'd just said, and then I blushed, my face heating up like I was a thirteen year old again.  
  
"Gosh, Bastila, I'm so sorry! I thought I was being _nice_, putting you in a quiet room in the medical bay like this, but now I realize I'm depriving you of your deepest fantasies!" I started laughing, more out of disbelief than anything, my head buried in my hands. "We've totally got dungeons! I can chain you up right now if you want!"  
  
"_No!_" I barely managed to say through the laughter.  
  
"You sure? You're missing out..." Raga managed to keep a straight face for almost three seconds, whereupon she dissolved into giggles of her own. "Don't worry about it," she said when she finally recovered. "The romance films are a guilty pleasure for, like, half of us. Mako and I watched them all the time."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. "Really? I mean, the Sith in those movies are so ridiculous – why would a real Sith want to watch _those_?"  
  
Raga rolled her eyes. "Spoken like a Jedi who's never tried being one," she said with a smirk. "Trust me, it can be _lots_ of fun. Just don't take it too seriously."  
  
"You and Mako... you really... _Huh? Why?_" I just couldn't process it. "Real Sith... pretending to be Sith-movie Sith... in bed... _Why?_"  
  
"I told you, it's fun!" She leaned back onto the bed. "We all grew up watching Sith movies. Of course we're not really that kind of Sith, but it's fun hamming it up every now and then, you know?"  
  
"But... but you..." A question had burned through my confusion, one I desperately wanted to ask, but it wasn't really proper for a Jedi... not that it mattered, it wasn't like Raga was going to tell the Masters... oh, fuck it. "Which one of you was the Sith?" I finally blurted out.  
  
"Depended on our moods," Raga said, sitting back up with a wink. "Mako definitely looked the part, but he was always a big softie at heart. But I... I sometimes..." She trailed off, sniffing a little, and wiped her eyes. "Sorry, just... bad memory."  
  
"I didn't mean to remind you," I said. Sometimes this just happened, talking about her husband – I supposed it wasn't so surprising, after how their relationship had ended.  
  
"Not your fault," Raga said. "But let's chase that away with a good memory. You know how Sith lightning isn't really lightning? It's just hate given form? Well, Mako and I experimented with using _other_ emotions to cast it, and, uh..." She raised her hands, and a neon purple bolt arced between her fingers, its glow filling the whole room. There was something oddly alluring about the light, and I gasped a little just seeing it. "So... if you ever do want to try the whole captive-Jedi-tied-to-a-wall-and-zapped-with-lightning thing, it could be pretty fun?" She grinned cheekily.  
  
I didn't say anything, just rolled my eyes and groaned. Raga started to giggle, the sound so high and clear and utterly innocent that I still couldn't believe it was coming from a Sith. She sounded like the civilian girls at the Dantooine arcade, untroubled by the war and death and destruction that I knew had to hang low over her. And she flirted like a Republic soldier, bold and self-possessed and utterly ridiculous. Sometimes she had flashes of melancholy or guilt, and at times I could see the anger I expected of a Sith bubbling beneath the surface, but she seemed so natural and so happy like this. It was hard to believe that it was all a facade.  
  
_I will definitely miss her_, I thought, _after I escape._


	3. Bastila's Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I renamed the deuteragonist here to Raga, where in previous versions of the story she was called Mira. There's no story reason for it, but the name is the same as a KotOR 2 character, and I don't want them to get confused by mistake.

I leaned back in my medical bed and planned my escape.  
  
My treatment was almost finished – my last IV was out, and they didn't even have any sensors on me now. Which meant that there was no device that would notice if I escaped. I might not be totally recovered yet, but I was more than strong enough to get out of here.  
  
Some of my captors were powerful enough that I didn't want to fight them – Raga and HK-47 topped that list – but they weren't always around, and many of the others were weak. I wouldn't try to escape from the doctors – they feared me, and came guarded. Instead, the Dark Jedi seemed like my best chance. They were fresh from their Academy, with shiny new lightsabers and swollen heads. Some of them seethed at the indignity of having to bring me food or medicine or stand guard at my door. They imagined it beneath them, which was perhaps the biggest mistake I had ever seen a Sith make.  
  
Maybe I was just a padawan, but I was the most famous Jedi in the galaxy for a reason. Sure, I was in a medical bed, but these twits were so far beneath me that I could defeat them from the grave. It wasn't very Jedi of me, but I would enjoy beating the crap out of them.  
  
So I lay there in wait, reaching out with the Force, just waiting for one of them to fall into my trap. It was interesting, refocusing my battle meditation – a technique I usually used against whole fleets – to just the _Infinite_. I was hoping to use my influence as part of my escape. My imprisonment had made it easy – lots of time to get to know the ship and its crew. Equally interesting were the effects of lying in wait: my body fell into a kind of trance, building up my reserves of strength and Force so that I could spring into action when the time came.  
  
About two hours later, it did.  
  
The door slammed open, and a Sith kid even younger than I was barged into the room, haphazardly spinning a tray of food on his hand. He took one look at me and rolled his eyes. "Hey, Bastila, wake up! Time to eat!" He pounded his fist on the table, and it rattled loudly.  
  
Then I sprang from the bed, the Force at my back, and knocked into him, slamming him against the wall. As his lightsaber and his comm sprung to my hand, I stole the breath from his lungs with the Force, his lips working uselessly as he tried to call for help for the long moments until finally he fell limp and collapsed to the floor, unconscious.  
  
I smiled. Just as planned.  
  
I walked right out of the still-open door, reaching out with the Force to distract the doctors and patients: a pen rolling under a desk, a particularly engrossing book chapter, an easy chance to slack off. No one noticed me, not even as I stole a long lab coat off a chair. It'd cover my hospital gown, make me a little more presentable. Not _obviously_ an escaping prisoner. I strode through the halls, into an elevator, up to the hangar level, everyone who ran across me unaccountably distracted, dropping things, running for the bathroom, or just not looking up. Through it all, I just kept walking, casually and steadily.  
  
The Republic shuttle I'd flown in on was still here in one of the hangars, and I could feel that the Empire hadn't sabotaged it or bugged it. They hadn't even locked the door. I walked in, and then rang up the hangar control on my stolen communicator. On the other end was a nineteen-year-old ensign, a guttering flame in the Force, easy to manipulate. He really _shouldn't_ just open the forcefields, he knew that. He was supposed to get authorization codes, check with the board operator, make sure the ship was cleared for launch. But he was so tired. It had been a long day. His buddy died in the fighting last week, and he just wanted to get off shift and get wasted. The codes would check out. They always did. Who gave a shit, really?  
  
"Roger that," came the utterly apathetic voice over the comms, and the shimmering blue field flickered out, the black expanse of space yawning before me.  
  
"Thanks, Ensign," I said, before gently easing the shuttle out of the hangar and into the eternal night outside. I flicked the switch to turn the shuttle's prototype stealth system, and then almost collapsed into the soft padding of the chair.  
  
I'd done it. I'd escaped.  
  
Then Raga leaned across the console and grinned. "Congratulations, Bastila," she said. "Impressively done."  
  
I jumped up, nearly tripping as I scrambled out of the pilot's chair, my stolen lightsaber leaping into my hand. Raga hadn't even been three feet away, just waiting there in the copilot's seat – she must have been using the Force to camouflage herself, I hadn't even noticed her!  
  
"Hey," she said, showing me her empty hands. "Relax. I won't fight unless you start it. Just here to keep an eye on you. Wouldn't want you getting lost, after all."  
  
"You..." I just stared at her for a moment, gave myself room to breathe, to figure out what was going on. My saber still lay in my hands, but I hadn't turned it on. "You _knew_ I was escaping?"  
  
"Of course I did!" Raga rolled her eyes. "What, you thought I really trusted those bozos to guard you? I would never think so little of you... though even I was impressed by your escape. I was watching through the cameras. And the Force. I've never seen a better display of sensitivity and manipulation. You'll make a wonderful First Apprentice, Bastila."  
  
"Sensitivity and manipulation?" I glared at her. "That was battle meditation!"  
  
"Right. Of course." She snorted, rolled her eyes. "Well, whatever you want to call it, you did a great job. I could hardly do better."  
  
Despite myself, I smiled for a split second. Was it weird that I still wasn't used to praise? I mean, the Republic had been effusive, but my actual fellow Jedi... less so. It was different, hearing it from someone who might actually _understand_ what I was doing.  
  
"However, you still have a lot to learn in your other disciplines. Your choice of escape vehicle meant that your plan was doomed from the start."  
  
"What? This is exactly what the Republic's mission briefing said to do!" I glared at her, feeling irrationally as though I'd been betrayed. "This ship is _built_ for making stealthy escapes!"  
  
"If we were still on the front lines, it would be perfect," Raga said. "But we're deep in Sith territory now. This is a light shuttle, so it barely has enough range to make it out of the system. Unless you want to turn around and head back to the _Infinite_, the only place we'll be able to land is the planet down below. That means Revan would find you long before the Republic could get here."  
  
"That's... a good point." I shifted in my seat. "But what other options did I have?"  
  
"If you'd stolen one of the fighters, you could have made it into hyperspace before Revan or I noticed. You couldn't get all the way back to the Republic in one of those, but you certainly could make yourself very hard to find, then contact the Republic and wait for extraction. You'd have to shut your power off so we couldn't track you, and that wouldn't be fun, but at least you'd make it out."  
  
I nodded. "Why didn't the Republic mention that? In the briefing."  
  
"Well, they didn't figure anyone would make it off the ship a week later. Still, you could have realized that little problem yourself. You certainly had time to think this through, after all."  
  
"Fair," I said with a sigh. My eyes flicked to the control panel, checking my fuel, my range. She was right. The shuttle just wasn't built for distance flights. With my amateur piloting, even getting out of the system would be a stretch. And we were deep in Imperial territory, much too deep. There was no _point_ to fighting Raga – no matter whether I won or lost, I wasn't going home.  
  
My thoughts ran back over the escape, looking for mistakes, missing opportunities, things I could do better next time. Then I thought about Raga, and my eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
"Wait a second. How the hell did you find me? No one else in the whole _ship_ noticed I was escaping! What did _you_ do?"  
  
"Now that's more like it," Raga said with a nod and a grin. "Good. I knew you were escaping because we're Force bonded."  
  
"What? How? I've never met you before in my life, and I would have noticed a _Force Bond_ with—"  
  
Then I gasped as her shields fell away, and I could feel her presence within me. It was crazy, but somehow, she was telling the truth. We were bonded. Her very soul was in contact with mine. Slowly, I reached out through the Force, and touched it.  
  
Raga had incredible depths of darkness, and stains on her soul that could only have come from extreme acts of evil. And yet she hadn't given herself over to it the way someone like Malak or Revan had – a bright starburst of empathy and compassion shone at her core, Raga's driving force, and her soul was vibrantly colored with love and joy and care. She could clearly never be a proper Jedi – her soul almost hummed with an intensity of feeling that would make even her good emotions incredibly dangerous, an irrepressible spirit I was certain no Master could calm. But neither was she devoted to the anger and hate that usually drove a Sith.  
  
Raga had always seemed sane. Balanced, in a way that I had always learned Sith never could be. I'd expected it to be a facade, but clearly I was wrong – she really was who she claimed to be, down to the bottom of her soul.  
  
"I see. A Force bond." I tried to steady myself. Just because she wasn't dripping with corruption, didn't mean she wasn't a Sith. "So this is how you plan to keep me in line. What kind of Dark Side tricks did you make this with?"  
  
"I didn't use the Dark Side," Raga said. "It's a healer's bond. I saved your life, remember?"  
  
"_What?_ I... I remember, sure... but I thought healers' bonds only formed in the worst situations, and..." I swallowed. "Just how bad were my injuries?"  
  
"I said you were dying. You didn't believe me?" She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "When I started to heal you, your body was broken, and your mind was on the verge of slipping away."  
  
I fell silent as I listened to her. Raga was usually flippant, but I could tell this was serious.  
  
"You fell just as the battle with Malak's forces began. There were assassins and saboteurs inside the ship, Malak and his traitors were firing on us from the outside, and the Republic fleet was attacking both sides amidst the chaos. There was no time to move you to the medical bay, and no guarantee it would be safe if we could, so you stayed with me as we fought for control. After Malak was defeated and the Republic fled, we moved you to a kolto tank. But for two long hours, I alone kept you alive."  
  
_Oh._  
  
I could feel the truth of her words, and it sent me into solemn contemplation. No wonder we'd bonded. After all that, it'd be more surprising if we hadn't.  
  
I truly owed her a debt – Jedi tradition demanded it, even if my own conscience didn't. But with her being a Sith – well, Sith weren't supposed to heal at all. I didn't think I'd ever heard of anything like this. I desperately wished I could talk to Master Vrook or Master Vandar, ask them to explain it, to tell me what I should do. But they weren't here. I had to make my own choices.  
  
"You'll find it very difficult to conceal things from me, at least until you improve your mental shielding. Try learning from mine." She smiled, and most of my awareness was lost. I could still feel her presence – it was hard to miss, now that I knew – but I couldn't even get a good read on her soul any longer, let alone her mental state or her thoughts.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked weakly.  
  
"You have a Force bond with a Sith Master," she said. "I know that's a big deal. I wanted to wait until you knew me a little better, break the news gently." She smirked in that ridiculous way she sometimes had. "Maybe after the second date?"  
  
I sighed. Even when she was talking about our bond, Raga just couldn't stay serious for long. "I... if the bond formed like you say, then you more than earned it. Though... how am I supposed to escape like this?"  
  
"You're not going to escape. Not from me."  
  
I shivered as a feeling of deep dark power touched me through my bond. As fun as Raga usually was, and as vague as she'd been about her past, I couldn't forget that she was a high-ranking Sith. I had been losing badly to Revan even before Malak nearly killed me, and I had survived only because of Raga's unexpected kindness. In that moment, I was certain that Raga could kill me too.  
  
Then she smiled, and the dark feeling vanished almost instantly. "Don't worry about it, Bastila! It's okay if you're having a little cabin fever. Everyone has to stretch their legs now and then, and after what's happened to you, no wonder you're uncomfortable. I really didn't think we could keep you cooped up in that medbay for much longer anyway. I came up with something special for your first escape..."  
  
I raised an eyebrow. _Huh?_  
  
"Down below is a Sith resort world, popular for shore leaves. The food is _amazing_. So I'm thinking we spend the day having fun, and then head back up to the _Infinite_?"  
  
I blinked. "You're _joking_!" I said. "I _escape_, and you take that as a chance for a date with a pretty Jedi?!" I realized only after I said it that I probably shouldn't have. Not that I was _wrong_, exactly, but it would only encourage her. Besides, it was undignified.  
  
"Pretty Sith, you mean?" Raga grinned at me, and I rolled my eyes. A lot of the Jedi I knew would have been deeply offended at something like that. I probably would have been, a week ago. I really had gotten used to Raga and her nonsense. "Nope, I'm not joking at all! I get to enjoy myself, and you don't get arrested. In my book, that's a good deal. You are going to play along, aren't you?"  
  
She reached out toward the console, her fingers brushing the stealth-cancel button.  
  
"If you're going to stop me," she said, "now would be the time."  
  
I stared, my gaze flickering between her finger over the button and the lightsaber in my hand. A part of me was screaming to do it. To put everything I had into escaping. Even if I'd get caught. Even if Revan would torture me. To never submit.  
  
But I couldn't get away this time. I knew that. There was no point. If I agreed – if I kept Raga and Revan happy – perhaps they would give me the chance I needed to escape another day.  
  
"Fine," I spat. "I'll go."  
  
Raga smiled and pushed the button, and the stealth field's greenish cast faded from the windshield. "Thank you, Bastila. You made the right choice." She plonked a duffel bag onto the console. "You'll need this."  
  
I opened the bag, looked inside – and stared. "These are Sith robes!" I said.  
  
"What, you expected Jedi?" Raga smiled at me, looking smugger than ever. "You're Revan's new apprentice. That gives you a lot of pull, if you look the part. If you don't... things might not go so well. Besides, that lab coat doesn't exactly flatter you." She turned back to the consoles, slipping the headset on as she pushed some buttons. "You get dressed, I'll land."  
  
I sighed, before picking up the bag and stepping into the bathroom. Sith robes or not, they would be better than a lab coat thrown over a hospital gown.  
  
Besides, I'd already surrendered. It was too late to turn back now.  
  
Resignedly, I took the robes out of the bag. They were a lot like Jedi dress robes – I had no trouble putting them on – but they were a lot fancier. They were made of black silk that felt weirdly soft against skin used to scratchy Jedi wool. A design was embroidered into them in silver thread that sparkled just a little under the low lighting of the shuttle. They were also tight and low-cut, which made me roll my eyes a little. Shouldn't have expected anything else from Raga.  
  
Finally, I slipped my stolen lightsaber onto my belt. A Sith lightsaber, with a deep red crystal. Just what I needed to complete the image.  
  
There was something in me that withered at the sight in the mirror: a Sith, complete with black robes, red lightsaber, and a sickbed pallor that could pass for corruption. It hadn't really sunk in before that _I would look like a Sith_ – it had seemed almost ridiculous, my Jedi head stuck on a Sith body as if someone had been playing with dolls. But I looked like I belonged this way. I couldn't stop worrying about what the Masters would think. Master Vrook would take it hard, I knew he would. His own Padawan falling to the Dark Side... he'd be crushed. And Master Vandar would be quietly disappointed, sorrowful in that way Jedi sometimes were when they wouldn't let themselves be sad.  
  
I leaned down over the sink and splashed some water on my face. Snap out of it, Bastila. I might look like a Sith, but I wasn't. I hadn't fallen. I wouldn't. Someday I'd escape. I'd return to the Jedi. And... hopefully, I could explain all that to the Masters when I got back.  
  
The bathroom door clicked open, and I stepped out into the main room. I could see a deep blue sky through the cockpit windows. The shuttle was descending through the atmosphere, and Raga was arguing on the comms.  
  
"Skarys Control, you saw my authorization. I don't need to tell you jack." She waited for a few seconds, then sighed. "Fine! Fine. Meet us at the pad then. Slash Nine out." She shut the comms off, then tossed the headset back onto the console as she stood up. "Bastila! You look wonderful. I guessed the size right, then?"  
  
"It fits fine, but..." I motioned to the robe. "Really? We Jedi aren't so vain as this..."  
  
"So you're saying you _never_ modified your robes? Really? I've seen your propaganda posters, Bastila. I bet you half the Republic's teenage boys have them pinned on their walls." She giggled. "I would have too, but Mako didn't like it."  
  
My mouth fell open. "Hey! I... I didn't... I mean, I tweaked my outfit a little, but who hasn't? And—"  
  
"Exactly!" She winked at me. "Everyone tweaks their robes. What we Sith do isn't so different. We just don't pretend we're not doing it." She shrugged. "Well, most of us do it. We've still got a few holdouts. Like, Revan in her getup could be a _nun_!"  
  
"But these are even fancier than yours!" Raga was wearing dress robes, too, but they weren't nearly as ornate – just plain silk, her mirror-polished copper lightsabers the only hint of ornamentation.  
  
"Of course yours are nicer... Master." She sank into a Sith curtsy, bowing her head and holding her robes out as she lowered herself almost to the floor. If it weren't for the big smirk on her face, I might have thought she was sincere. Well, and if she weren't Raga. "You didn't think I was going to get you completely off the hook, did you? _You'll_ have to be the big Sith in the room, starting with explaining to the spaceport officials why you're landing in a Republic ship with no flight plan."  
  
"What? It's not enough that I have to dress up like a Sith? Now I have to pretend to _be_ one?"  
  
Raga shrugged. "Would you rather get arrested? Because that path ends with Revan tying you up and zapping you with lightning in a not-intentionally-sexy way."  
  
"This deal just keeps getting worse," I muttered. "Fine. I'll do it. But you're going to have to help me, because I don't know how to act like a Sith and I don't want to get shot for screwing up."  
  
"I thought you'd never ask!" she said with a smile, and the air of someone whose trap had just sprung. "I'm always here to teach. Sit down, we can act this out..."


	4. Shore Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I changed the protagonist's name in this version! In the original version of the previous chapters, she was named Mira, but that's the name of a KotOR 2 character, so I changed it to Raga.

The boarding ramp lowered with a pneumatic hiss, and I strode out of the shuttle and onto the landing pad, the thin fabric of my Sith robes somehow billowing behind me in no breeze at all.

Raga followed meekly in my footsteps, the very image of an assistant or an acolyte. She'd put her hood up, and a veil covered her nose and mouth. The dark skin of her face seemed almost to vanish in the shadows – it looked uncannily like she had two blue eyes peeking out from nothingness.

The little huddle of spaceport bureaucrats looked suddenly terrified to see us. Looked like they hadn't expected a real Sith.

They hadn't gotten a real Sith, but I wasn't going to tell them that.

"So," I said, my voice low and darkly rumbling, "who here has a problem with my vessel?"

The bureaucrats churned inwards on themselves, pushing and shoving to not be standing at the front, a strange motion that eventually shoved a dim-looking man in a bleached-blonde buzz cut to the fore. He seemed oddly familiar, for some reason. "He did it!" came a tremulous voice from the back of the huddle, high with terror.

I raised an eyebrow. "Well?" I asked.

"Lieutenant Trask Ulgo, ma'am!" he said, his voice the kind of obnoxiously singsongy that seemed to make every sentence an exclamation. "I, uh, I have no problem with you, uh, Lady Sith! It's just, your ship... it's not registered as Imperial! And you didn't file a flight plan, and with the Empress's flagship here, security is tight! We'd really appreciate it if you could fill out some forms—"

I yanked at him with the Force, and he flew across the room to crumple into a broken pile at my feet. My hand twitched against my stolen lightsaber as I glared down at him. "Do we have a problem, Lieutenant?"

"N-n-no, ma'am!" he eventually managed, looking very much as though he wanted to piss himself.

"Good." I motioned to Raga. "Come."

"Yes, master!" Raga said, her voice even higher than normal. She scurried after me as I strode deeper into the spaceport.

Then I could feel the blanket of Force concealment settle over us, and Raga ripped her hood down with a laugh. "That was great!" she said. "I knew you'd have fun!" Raga said with a grin. "No one could spend as much time with the Republic Fleet as you have, and not have fun scaring the piss out of an obnoxious bureaucrat. So, who were you thinking of?"

"I... I don't know what you mean," I said, feeling much more comfortable as I slipped back into my normal Jedi-accented voice. There was just something odd about talking like a Sith. "I was just acting."

"Sure you were," Raga drawled. She inclined her head toward me. "But who were you remembering when you went after Ulgo? Come on, don't try to tell me there wasn't anybody. I saw that look in your eyes."

"Um... not really, just... there was this one captain, he wouldn't listen to anything I said. Even in the middle of a battle! I had to get one of the Admirals to give the order every single time." Raga's face fell into a sympathetic frown, squeezing my hand. "I... I get why he did it. He was Revan's pilot for a while. He looked at me and saw her. But even if he hated me, why irritate me like that? He was doing it on purpose, and it's just... If he were right about me, I would have gutted him!"

"As cathartic as murdering insubordinate twits may be, we'd much rather you just have them court-martialed," Raga said with a sparkle in her eyes. "Sorry if we Sith aren't as fun as you were hoping."

I rolled my eyes. Was there anything Raga wouldn't joke about?

"But I guarantee you, the Revan thing? Just an excuse. None of them wants to have a teenage Jedi girl giving them orders. We had to deal with the same shit long before her renunciation." That was a very pretty word for betraying the Republic. "Though it stopped like overnight when Revan became Supreme Commander."

I sighed. "If only," I said as we stepped out into the spaceport's main concourse. It was quite beautiful – a high ceiling painted a metallic blue with star-shaped lights hung below, wired to each other in intricate, constellation-like patterns. "I'm surprised you were OK with that ruse," I said uneasily, reaching for a safer conversation topic. "Having to call me Master, I mean. Since I'm not. I thought Sith hated that sort of thing."

"Who says you're not my Master? I'm certainly not Revan's apprentice. Once you're out of training, you'll be second only to the Empress herself."

The shit-eating grin on her face told me that she was messing with me. But she was right – if I remembered my briefing on Sith leadership right, I would be the First Apprentice, second-in-command of the whole Empire. So where was the trick? Was she so close to Revan that she was outside the normal chain of command?

We stepped out of the spaceport and up to a two-seat speeder sitting empty in the arrivals line. It was painted glossy black, a big copper engine cowling looming at the back. Raga held the passenger door open for me, and hopped in the driver's seat herself. She pulled a little data pendant from her belt, and tapped it to the computer console in the center.

"By order of Sith High Command," the computer said melodically, "speed restrictions are lifted for this vessel."

Then Raga grinned and pushed the throttle all the way forward, and the speeder shot off like a swoop bike in the Tatooine Classic.

"What in the Force are you doing?" I yelled over the din, my hair whipping around like it was in a tornado. In just a few moments, we were out of the spaceport and onto a highway, dodging around other speeders so fast it was making me sick.

"Got used to fast speeders in the Mandalorian Wars," she said, sounding almost bizarrely calm. "The week I got home, they gave me a thousand-credit ticket."

"No wonder!" I said. "Slow down, you're gonna get us both killed!"

"C'mon, Bastila, don't be such a stick in the mud! I got the Force on my side, it'll be fine." She looked toward me for a second and giggled, seeing my hair blowing into my face. "And do something about your hair! The wind is no match for a Jedi of your strength."

I frowned, reaching out to grab my own hair with the Force. I could indeed shield it from the wind, keep it from blowing around so much.

"See? It's not so bad, is it?" She snorted as she propelled the speeder around a car full of soldiers who just stared as we zipped by. "If you think this is fast, I should bring you swoop racing sometime."

"How can you possibly tell where you're going?!" I said, as we passed an inch from scraping our bumper against a big bus.

"Bastila, you use your powers on whole fleets. You really think a highway full of speeders would be a challenge?"

"I'm a commander, Raga, not a pilot! And even hot-shot fighter pilots aren't this crazy!"

"Look, just try it! Reach out with the Force. Feel the other speeders. You know where they're all going, don't you?"

I sighed. "Fine." I opened my mind, feeling the other speeders whipping past around us – and then grimaced. "I do know where they're going. You're right, it's just like reading a fleet."

"Told you!" she said with a smirk, as we zoomed between two autohaulers at ten times the speed limit. "So all I'm doing is driving where they won't be. You could do it too, if you wanted. Make sense?"

"Uh..." I bit my lip. "In theory, I guess?"

She laughed. "I'll make a racer out of you yet," she said, and I rolled my eyes. "Speaking of which, you have anything in particular you want to do today?" The beaches here are wonderful, and there's an amusement park, a theater, even a swoop track..." I made a face, and she giggled. "But, yes, something tells me none of those things are really your favorites. So I was thinking we'd spend the day in the mountains. There's a hiking trail all the way up to the peak." There was a huge mountain range off toward the horizon – densely forested, looking beautiful and rugged. It looked very serene. Relaxing. "Supposedly the view is amazing. You can see the whole colony. We'll spend the day up there, come back down the mountain in time for dinner. Sound good?"

"Yes," I said, my voice almost as surprised as I felt. That was almost a proper Jedi retreat, except for the part where I was going on it with a Sith. I would have thought she'd insist on something more corrupting. "That sounds quite pleasant, actually."

"All right! Let's do that, then. I'll have a droid bring up picnic lunch. But you're learning to race next time."

She winked, and I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on..."

Raga cackled as the speeder did something else completely suicidal.


	5. The Infinite Empire

The speeder set gently down onto a landing spot with a view of the sea.  
  
Raga and I had taken a nice, relaxing hike – we'd stopped to meditate on the outcroppings, and talked about simple, innocuous things. The Jedi training we'd shared, the quirks of life as a Jedi in the Republic military. Shared experiences. It had been long and arduous, the mountain covered in a chilling fog that neither of us had dressed for. As Master Vrook might say, this was a landscape only a Jedi could love. But I was a Jedi, and Raga had been one not so long ago, and so it suited us just fine. With the Force, we were always dressed for all weather, and we could walk all day without feeling the least bit fatigued.  
  
I hadn't wanted to go into the city. Not just because I preferred hiking – being surrounded by Imperials, having to act like a Sith, sounded exhausting. But the beach, oddly, made me think twice about it.  
  
Imperial troops were laughing, playing, enjoying themselves down on the beach as the sun started to set. I hadn't expected that I would ever _enjoy_ the sight of so many happy Imperials, but I did. They just seemed so _normal_ this way. There had to be innumerable beaches in the Republic with parties just like this one. Somewhere, perhaps, the Republic soldiers I once commanded would be doing the same thing.  
  
_That I would command again_, I reminded myself. But the prospect seemed uncertain now, in a way it hadn't been even a day ago.  
  
As the speeder flew away to park, Raga led me down the beach to a long pier jutting out to sea, a little glass building at its end. The sign said that this was a restaurant – the name was Nuana, apparently some kind of seafood place. She led me through the doors and into a small room – an elevator car, I realized – with a few padded benches to sit on, and a glass floor providing a view of the sea below.  
  
Then the doors closed behind us, and the whole room shot _downward_ – straight into the sea, passing right through the waves inside of a clear glass shaft. Crystal-blue waters surrounded us, enormous sea creatures swimming gracefully past.  
  
"This is beautiful!" I breathed. The elevator car turned as it descended, the ocean swirling around us, a glittering, sparkling, living jewel. Then I looked down, and saw the restaurant. It was a glass disc standing tall above a reef, gently spinning, a revolving restaurant in the depths of the sea.  
  
"It is beautiful," Raga quietly, wistfully agreed, as she donned her hood and veil once more.  
  
The elevator gently stopped in the center of the disc, the doors opening onto a lobby whose walls were covered by red-leaved plants with glowing yellow fruit. There were many Sith officers there, patiently waiting their turn to eat, but I strode past them, up to the droid at the entrance.  
  
"Good evening, Grand Admiral Shan," the droid said with a bow.  
  
At first, the grumblings from the officers were unhappy, as if I thought I was important enough to just waltz straight in. But when they heard my name – prefixed with the title I didn't even know I _had_ – that stopped. They began to stare, to whisper amongst themselves. _Grand Admiral?_ I heard a dozen times, repeated in low whispers. It didn't take long before one stood at attention and saluted, and then another, and then all the rest.  
  
This time, my usual disgust at being thought a Sith was undercut by something else. I _liked_ it. And not in the guilty, ashamed way I'd liked getting one over on that bureaucrat. This felt _good_. Genuinely good.  
  
I never had an official rank with the Republic. The soldiers loved me, but they never truly followed me. Even those who didn't purposely antagonize me recognized that all my 'orders' were just suggestions, subject to approval by a real Republic commander. I was to be liked, respected, sometimes even adored – but not followed. And to all the Jedi, I was just another Padawan. _Less_ than another Padawan. They never stopped watching me, always fearful that I would follow in Revan's footsteps, and fall to the Dark Side.  
  
_As if the way they treated me would do anything but lead me to the Dark by the hand._  
  
I only barely held in my shocked reaction. That was _much_ too bitter. I shouldn't think things like that. Especially not here. Not now. Not with a Sith like Raga. I was certain she'd felt it.  
  
"Please, come right this way," the droid said. "You'll be seated in the private booth, sonically shielded to prevent eavesdropping."  
  
"Good." I was sure I was meant to say more, but the words just weren't coming. I took one last look at the Sith officers, then followed the droid into the restaurant, to a semicurcular booth on the very edge of the disc, shielded from view by black curtains. The view was incredible – windows arched above us, before us, and even down onto the floor, the sea every bit as magnificent as it had been in the elevator.  
  
There was already some food set out – a plate of thin little bread slices, two different kinds, one topped with little vegetable slices, the other with a glowing orange jelly and cheese. There were also drinks, of a pale, subtly glowing green.  
  
"I take it you like your new rank," Raga said, scooting into the bench. Of course she asked about that. Force, she noticed _everything_, didn't she?  
  
"I guess it's not so bad," I said weakly. The way the places were set, we were sitting right next to each other, close enough I could reach out and touch her. "I'm surprised you'd want me as Grand Admiral."  
  
"Of _course_ you're the Grand Admiral!" Raga said. "You were the linchpin of the whole Republic war effort. You _more_ than deserve the title – Force, the Republic should have made you Supreme Commander, like Revan was." She sighed, picking up one of the breads and taking a dainty little bite. "But then, everything is politics with them. The rank you deserve would remind people of Revan, and that would be bad for PR. And the Jedi were opposed – they never trusted you anyway, so of course they wouldn't agree to anything that lessened their power over you. And so the woman who in truth led the Republic fleet was titled a mere padawan. Ridiculous."  
  
I so deeply agreed and so desperately didn't want to that it made my heart ache.  
  
"We don't play games like that here. You are the Grand Admiral, as Mako once was." Try as I might, I couldn't detect anything but warmth and sympathy in Raga's voice. "The only reason you won't be our Supreme Commander is because Revan herself fills those shoes."  
  
"I'd sooner be a padawan in heaven than... than even an empress in hell," I whispered, searching my spirit for the strength to believe it.  
  
"So then being a padawan in hell would be the worst of both worlds." She leaned back in her seat, swallowing the last bite of her bread slice before taking another.  
  
"What do you mean by that?" I said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I mean that I don't much care for the Republic." She showed her bread slice for a second. "You really should try these, they're excellent."  
  
I sighed, but took one. It was, indeed, delicious. All the food I'd eaten with the Sith had been, but this was better still.  
  
"This is Arkenan food," Raga said. "Mako's homeworld. We married there. Had our honeymoon. Bought a little cabin that stood alone amidst the pink sands and ruivo vine forests, right on the coast. Mako taught me how to spearfish, to use the Force to breathe underwater. And he cooked every night."  
  
Somehow, I just couldn't picture it. The terrifying grey-skinned black-eyed Sith Lord, relaxing with his wife on a rustic beach. Fishing and cooking food. Like a civilian.  
  
"That world is still Republic. I really hope they haven't burned the place down. I'd miss it." Raga sounded quiet and wistful, but when she turned her eyes on me, I could tell she was back to business. "How much time have you actually spent in the Republic, Bastila? Do your minders ever let you see the worlds you're fighting for?"  
  
"Oh?" The question surprised me, and I had to think about my answer. "I... rarely have time to stop. I probably haven't spent more than a day or two outside a ship since I joined the war..." I realized that Raga's expression was growing predatory, and finally figured out why she'd asked this question. "But that's because the war is urgent! It's not like I don't _know_ – I've lived in the Republic all my life! I grew up on Dantooine!"  
  
"Dantooine is a Jedi resort world, just as surely as this is a Sith one. Beautiful grasslands, amazing weather, and rich vanity farmers." Raga shook her head. "The answer is no, then. You haven't seen the Republic. But then, I didn't either, not until I'd already left for war."  
  
She sounded genuinely sad. Mournful, for what she had once believed, and now couldn't. It felt oddly reminiscent of the Republic soldiers who once believed in Revan.  
  
"On our first trip to the front lines, we stopped on Taris to refuel, recruit for the fleet. But I felt something in the Force. Cruelty and suffering in the Lower City, not so far away. Some of my companions could feel it too, once I pointed it out. We figured that if we were going all this way to fight the Mandalorians, we could take the time to deal with a little local crime. Our whole mission was to help people, after all." She scoffed, shook her head. "I was so naive. We all were."  
  
I frowned. Was she going to get to a point, or—  
  
"What I walked into was a slave market," she said, and I gasped. "It was a low, dimly-lit room, the grimy floor stained with blood. On the stage at the far end was a young girl up for auction, only ten or eleven, crying in an iron cage. Her mother had taken a loan from the Exchange to pay for food, and then died." Her head was lowered, her eyes almost closed. "I had heard of slavery. I could feel it through the Force, as I could the Mandalorians' ravages. But I'd been taught that it was only found in Hutt space, or independent planets. On the fringes of the galaxy. But this wasn't. This was the Republic that I was supposed to be fighting for. That the Jedi had taught me to revere. The fleet you and I both joined had a base just a turbolift away." Her voice had quieted to just a whisper, turned rough and raspy with anger – not the rage of a Sith, but the righteous fury of a revolutionary. "This was all their values meant."  
  
I could feel my face twist with horror. I wanted to disbelieve, to convince myself that it was all lies. But I could feel her very soul through our bond – and so I knew that every word she said was true. "What did you do?" I breathed.  
  
"I killed a lot of slavers. I freed a lot of slaves. And I vowed on the Force that once the Mandalorians were dealt with, I would come for the Republic. With words if I could. By force if I had to." Her face looked almost placid, but I could feel her conflicted feelings through our bond. Rejecting the Republic had not been an easy choice. "So we left. We fought the Mandalorians, and won. When the war was over, we were revered as heroes, as saviors. But when I spoke out for reform, corporate-world Senators and military brass and even Jedi Masters swore they'd have me court-martialed for it." The words dripped with disgust. "They arrested me. I spent a week in a stockade on Coruscant before I made my choice. I didn't want another war. But, clearly, it wanted me."  
  
I'd heard of this. The Home Campaign. Revan and her closest companions, arguing for reforms in the Republic after the war. But military officers weren't supposed to run political movements – it had been a real scandal. These days, everyone knew it was an attempt at subversion, a way to build support while veiling their dark intentions. But... maybe it wasn't. I could still feel her though our bond, and I still didn't think she was lying. And the news had never reported on any of the Home Campaign getting _jailed_, either...  
  
While I was still lost in thought, a droid stepped though the curtain around our booth, carrying two plates – fish croquettes and fried buriga cubes. Apparently this restaurant served many, many small courses. They were excellent, both of them. And so politics was forgotten for a moment while we ate. But, as the first dishes were almost finished, I turned back to Raga.  
  
"What happened after you got arrested?" I asked.  
  
"I resigned my commission and publicly disbanded the Home Campaign. They let me go." She shrugged. "Pretty straightforward. After that, I enjoyed a few months of peace. Mako and I married. I healed from the first war, as much as I ever will. We studied, we learned. We wrote the doctrines of the New Sith, and prepared for the war ahead. But there was a problem: us and what army? With our reputations, we knew others would renounce the Republic alongside us, but we didn't think there'd be enough. Out of desperation, Revan very nearly took up Mandalore's mask and recalled the clans to fight for her. Then we discovered the legends of the Star Forge, and not only did we have our army, we had a solution to a problem we hadn't even _started_ to tackle yet. We knew that this would be our path."  
  
"What is it?" I whispered. "A... a superweapon?"  
  
"Oh, no. Nothing like that. Remember, we have Revan on our side. For us, revolutions are easy. Wars are easy. The problem was how to change things afterward." She took a bite of her croquette. "Think about how _big_ the galaxy is. Coruscant alone bears almost a trillion souls, and known space is set to crack five hundred trillion before the war is over. We wanted this war so we could make things better. But doing _anything_ for so many people is much easier said than done." She gestured with the rest of her croquette. "Let's talk about how Coruscant gets its food."  
  
I blinked. I'd been on Coruscant many times, visiting the Temple or the High Command. I'd never really thought about what I'd eaten there.  
  
"It's a city planet, obviously. Fully terraformed, with its surface completely covered. There is no space for agriculture, and absolutely no way for the planet to sustain itself. All but a token amount of the planet's food must be imported. Twenty planets completely terraformed for agriculture could just about provide the staples. But the Republic is not so efficient. Today, a full hundred farming worlds feed Coruscant. An army of people live on those planets, and a fleet of cargo ships and pilots bring their food to market. It's as large as the force I led against the Mandalorians, and it's all to serve just one planet."  
  
Her sudden fervor over logistics struck me as oddly endearing, especially on a Sith. But then her expression hardened, her voice getting cold.  
  
"Even a week's disruption in shipments would mean famine," she said. "This meal we're enjoying now – traditionally harvested and cooked, with a wide range of ingredients and no synthesis or reprocessing – would be an incredible privilege to most of the galaxy. You don't see it – most people never do – but we truly are still struggling to survive."  
  
The droid came by with more food, but our conversation went on uninterrupted. Neither of us reached for it, not then. It felt... wrong, somehow.  
  
"Coruscant is the capital of the Republic, and as such, lavish subsidies ensure the many Senators, bureaucrats, and dignitaries never have to see a starving person." She smiled bitterly. "Your seclusion among the Enclaves of the Jedi and the starships of the fleet did the same for you. The Republic has learned from my Home Campaign what their new Jedi savior ought not see."  
  
I winced, looking down into my lap. I had... _noticed_ that the Republic didn't send me to the kinds of events that they once did Revan. It was supposed to be for security, and because I was needed more elsewhere. I had never thought it could be to hide things from me, and yet... it seemed so obvious, now that Raga told me about it. My focus had been on battles. On fleets of ships, fighting in the sterile vacuum of space. I'd never been to meetings about the fates of civilian planets, about famine or devastation. Force, they hadn't even let me go to the meeting about Revan, and I _fought_ her! Raga was right. They _had_ been trying to hide things from me.  
  
"The rest of the galaxy doesn't receive the same protection. On Taris and a hundred other crumbling city worlds, imported food is far too expensive, and locally-grown is impossible. The poor eat from synthesizers fed on sewage. And some are left out of even that." She shook her head. "There are a million reasons for all of this suffering. But the faults that cause it all have their roots in one place, one atavistic impulse that has been with us all longer than sapience. We creatures of the galaxy – we do what we must to survive."  
  
I had never really been sure what to make of Raga. But now I was more confused than ever. She hadn't really sounded like a Sith this whole conversation. She sounded like an activist. I didn't know to react to that.  
  
"The solution is to break the cycle. To make sure that no one will ever again have to struggle to live."  
  
Raga chose that moment to break our fast, reaching out for a little buibolfish that she popped into her mouth whole.  
  
"What we discovered was an artifact of the Rakatan people, whose Infinite Empire was steeped in blood and hate and anger and the Dark Side of the Force. Their cruelty still gives shape to our perceptions of the Dark Side today, long after they vanished from memory. The Star Forge was once the beating heart of their empire."  
  
I froze midway through biting into a fish. Suddenly, she sounded like a Sith again. "Why?" I said after swallowing. "You said you wanted to _help_ people! What could you want with something like that? The Jedi would destroy it on sight!"  
  
"Don't you want to know what it _is_ before deciding you want to blow it up?" Raga asked.  
  
I sighed. "Go ahead," I muttered.  
  
"It's a space station, larger than a thousand capital ships – a factory that combines the energy of a star with the power of the Force to produce... _anything_. I'm sure you've wondered just where my empire got its fleet. This is where. The Star Forge can make fighters by the thousands. Droids by the millions. Endless streams of capital ships. The _Infinite_, the _Champion_, all the flagships of the fleet produced whole."  
  
The sick feeling in my stomach was only growing.  
  
"But it's not all about war," she said. "In the space of about ten minutes, the Star Forge built every single manufactured item in this whole colony. The buildings. The droids. The speeders. The streetlights. The walkways. Even this booth we're sitting in. The whole colony was built, shipped, and installed entirely by the power of the Star Forge. The food, too – the Star Forge can't produce it directly, but every meal you've eaten in my care was grown, harvested, shipped, and cooked by Star Forge droids." She leaned back, taking a sip of her drink. "You see what that means, don't you?"  
  
"It means..." My voice was hollow, empty. I did know what that meant – and I didn't want to. "It... it means the Republic has to destroy the Star Forge to have any chance at defeating you," I lied.  
  
"And we both know what a catastrophe that would be," Raga said with a smile. I felt the touch of her soul through our bond, and knew she saw right through me. "With the Star Forge, we can provide food, shelter, and a million other necessities of life without requiring even a moment's labor from a sapient being. No one will ever again have to struggle to survive."  
  
_And the Republic or the Jedi would still gladly destroy it to stop us,_ said the unvoiced movement of both our hearts. _None of them would even consider the good it could do._  
  
"The Star Forge will be the heart of _my_ Infinite Empire, where its power brings a galactic era of plenty. Where we end deprivation, bondage, and want. Where the age-old cycle can finally end." She fixed her eyes on me – they were so _blue_, the mask of the Dark Side seemingly receded almost to nothing, and she smiled with the pride of someone who believed absolutely in her cause. "This is why I am fighting."  
  
I could do nothing but sit and stare. Raga's plans were huge. Grandiose. Arguably insane. But compassion flared brightly at their core, and that meant I couldn't look away. I couldn't dismiss it all as a scheme for power, or the deranged strategies of a Force-fractured mind.  
  
This was an intelligent, reasoned plan to make the galaxy a better place. As crazy as that sounded, it was.  
  
I had no idea what to do about that.  
  
"So, what do you think?" Raga asked, smiling quietly at me. "About our plans?"  
  
"I... I'm not..." I just couldn't get my thoughts straight. This seemed so crazy. She was a Sith! But she wasn't lying. She really believed in this. "Can I answer later?" I whispered. "Give me time to think about it."  
  
"Of course," Raga said. She reached out and squeezed my hand. "I know this is going to be hard for you, and I'm sure there's a lot more you want to hear. I won't push you to commit to anything yet. But I just want you to understand who we are. Why we're doing this. And when you do make a choice, I want to make sure you have all the information you need to make the right one."  
  
"Thank you," I whispered, a ragged but relieved smile play across my lips.  
  
"Don't mention it," Raga said. "Besides, we're letting politics put us off our meal! We're not done with this course, and there'll be _another_ before too long! C'mon, let's dig in!"  
  
We ate. The food had gotten a little cold, but it was still delicious. The next course was amazing. So was the dessert. As Raga promised, she didn't say anything more about the Empire, instead returning to the easy conversation topics we'd favored on our hike. Before too long, we took the elevator back to the surface. Raga led me down the beach, Imperial troops still partying and dancing and playing out on the sands. There were huge bonfires now, and Imperials sitting around toasting s'mores.  
  
We didn't stop at any of them. No one really took notice of us, either. We were just two Sith among the many enjoying a pleasant walk on the beach.  
  
"Raga?" I asked. Her hand was warm in mine as we walked through the cool night air. I didn't want to meet her eyes. "Do you mind if I ask a few more questions?"  
  
"Go ahead," Raga said with a nod. "I'm sure you have plenty."  
  
"Thanks," I said, a strange lump in my throat. "You said the Star Forge was evil. How sure are you that it _can_ be used for good?"  
  
"The Star Forge _is_ evil," Raga said. "It's deeply corrupt, powered by hate and anger and suffering. People were once... once sacrificed to it, to power the great machine. The very structure is steeped in the Force, and it has a malevolent aura that's hard to resist. Mako and I were the only Force-sensitives to set foot there, and, well... you saw how that ended. It corrupted us. Me." She looked out to sea, a tired smile on her face. "But I see no reason that it _has_ to be that way. The fundamental principle of the Star Forge makes order from _emotion_. Any emotion. Imagine a whole Empire provided for by the joy of its citizens!" The spirit returning to her voice, she finally looked back at me. "I think... it's probably too tainted to redeem fully. We'll destroy it. But only after we've figured out how to replace it."  
  
I nodded slowly. That was... disturbing... but it also sounded like Raga understood that. She knew the Star Forge couldn't be allowed to stand – just as I understood that it was too useful to destroy.  
  
We walked for a few more moments in silence.  
  
"Raga," I asked, "if this war started so you could build the Infinite Empire, then where _is_ it? I've never even heard the name before, and I haven't heard of any Imperial cities like this either. What happened?"  
  
"Good question," Raga said with a sigh. "We've started building the agricultural planets and automated systems that the Infinite Empire would need, but so far, they've only been used for fleet resupply, and for a few military planets like this one. And this is the model Imperial community, the only place in the galaxy where the Star Forge has built a colony."  
  
She bowed her head, looking as ashamed as I'd ever seen her.  
  
"The Infinite Empire has not yet reached a single civilian," she said. "There seemed, at the time, to be good reasons to put my focus elsewhere. There was a war to fight, and if I lost, my Empire would be destroyed no matter how happy its people. But I was corrupted. Lost. I would never have built the Empire I set out to, not even if all the galaxy kneeled before me."  
  
I nodded. I'd finally hit the real problem. "The Dark Side," I whispered. "No surprise. Did you really believe that the Dark Side would truly support a plan so bright? Raga, after what you've risked... after what you already lost... you can't really—" I froze. Raga had raised her head again – and she was _glaring_ at me.  
  
"I lost my husband to the Dark Side," she said, anger turning her voice low and imposing, scary and unsettling and _eerily_ familiar. Raga had never been like this before – where did I remember this from? "And I am painfully aware that I came a hairsbreadth away from losing myself. Don't lecture me. _I know._ Pray that you never have to."  
  
"Then why won't you _stop_?!" I asked. "If you know what nearly happened to you, why would you ever risk it _again_?"  
  
"Because I would rather eat my lightsaber than do nothing in the face of so much suffering!" Some of the Imperials standing around had started to stare at us. Raga closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and when she spoke again she was calm once more, speaking in the higher-pitched voice that seemed natural to her. "I have to try, Bastila. No matter the risks."  
  
I nodded weakly, tried to let myself breathe, still a little shaken by Raga's sudden flare of anger. I had been right before. With that kind of temper, she could never be a Jedi.  
  
"But I'm going to make sure we try _right now_, Bastila. I won't let my plans get pushed back any longer. The moment we're back to the _Infinite_, I'll order that Star Forge food be sent to captured planets, war zones, and famines. I'll ramp up production – I can start the terraforming process on ten worlds within a week. And..." She smiled, bright and genuine, the last vestiges of her anger lifting. "We just captured Taris this week. I can hardly think of a better place to start building our Empire."  
  
Raga turned away from the ocean, leading me up onto the sidewalk again. Our speeder was parked there, and she ushered me inside, started the engines, and zoomed off toward the spaceport.  
  
It took me a while to finally get the courage together to ask my last question.  
  
"You really think Darth Revan is going to go along with this?" I asked. "The whole Infinite Empire thing?"  
  
"Yes," Raga said with a smirk on her face. "I trust Revan completely."  
  
"_Why?_" I had almost shouted the word. "Why would you?"  
  
Raga raised an eyebrow. "Uh... why not, exactly? I promise, you don't know her as well as I do."  
  
"Maybe I haven't known her as long as you, but I've met her! I've dueled her! And she's – I reached out with the Force and I didn't feel _anything_ but hate and anger and _emptiness_ beneath it all! She is _gone_, Raga! I don't care if you admired her, or looked up to her, or slept with her, whatever this is about. And I don't care if she can walk and talk and _act_ like whoever she used to be. She's just... she's not _there_ anymore. If there is any good left in her, it's buried so deep I couldn't feel it."  
  
Raga's face fell into an expression that was half-cringe, half-grimace. "You truly don't believe she could come back from the Dark Side?" She looked away, her free hand fidgeting with her lightsaber. Copper-plated. That had been a bit of a fad – Revan did it, then her companions did, then all too many starstruck padawans. Not me, though. "You know I'm a Sith. You know I've fallen. But you don't seem to think so little of me."  
  
"I... I won't say it's never possible. My master's had a... a bit of a fascination with redemption lately. So I've heard a lot about it." My voice lowered. "Those who fall to the Dark Side can come back, no matter how deep you go... but you have to _want it_. And when you're that far gone, you never will. No outside force can bring you back. That never works. It has to be you."  
  
"That... _does_ match my experience." Raga looked back up at me, smiled weakly. "Good to hear. But if you think that will lure me away from Revan, you're still out of luck. I was actually expecting you to figure out why..." She shrugged, looking a little bit glum again. "I guess you don't want to see it. I suppose I wouldn't, in your shoes."  
  
I did want to know! Of course I did! Though... I hadn't even figured out who _Raga_ was yet. I wasn't dumb and I wasn't Force-blind – if I hadn't seen the answers, there was probably a reason. And I was starting to have a _bad_ feeling about this...  
  
Raga saw me fretting and shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Bastila. You'll find out why I trust Revan soon enough."  
  
She set the speeder down on the edge of a VIP landing pad at the spaceport. A shuttle was already parked there – a sleek, gently curved executive model, its five wings folded up to look very much like the silhouette of a flower. And though it was painted with the Sith emblem, that was smaller, marked alongside the ship identification. Instead, the huge insignia on the top wing was a circle around an infinity sign, its copper color standing out against the dark metal of the shuttle. This was a symbol that Revan and her inner circle had worn since the start of the war. No one had figured out what it meant – except that now, I knew.  
  
This was the mark of the Infinite Empire. Just as the flagship above was named the _Infinite_.  
  
I had felt in the Force that what Raga said was true. But it still came as a surprise that the signs had been there all along.  
  
The rear gate of the shuttle opened, and a very familiar copper-plated droid stepped out. "Hey there, HK," Raga said. "Bring us home."  
  
"Yes, Master," he said, his voice as warm as his vocabulator would permit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, that was a long one!
> 
> I spent a lot of time thinking about interesting ways to reassemble the concepts and events of _KotOR_. Using the Star Forge to _help_ people didn't appear at all – but it seemed like an obvious idea to play with. :)


	6. The Offer

My eyes gently opened to the red-orange glow of a simulated dawn cycle filling the room – a big, high-ceilinged bedroom with red-leaved vines growing along the ceiling, gently twining around the lamp ring hanging overhead.  
  
It was a wonderfully relaxing place. The Republic had once put me in a Chancellor's Suite in a fancy hotel on Coruscant, and that was the only place I'd been that was nearly so nice. But this room somehow managed to combine that opulence with a naturalistic aesthetic that struck me as distinctly Jedi. The room was bathed in such serenity that it took a distressingly long time to remember where exactly I was – the First Apprentice's cabin on the Imperial flagship _Infinite_. Darth Malak's former residence. A home meant for the second-in-command of the Sith.  
  
Darth Revan was sleeping in the room just down the hall.  
  
I reached out and touched the clock on the bedside, and the room brightened to full daytime, the transparisteel windows and floor untinting to reveal that the sun was rising over the planet below, the lights of the colony twinkling in the twilight. I could see a few supply haulers flitting around outside, between us and the planet and the dry dock whose big metal arms surrounded our ship. The _Infinite_ was once again fighting fit, all the damage from Malak's attack fully repaired. We were supposed to move on today.  
  
I got out of bed, stepping gingerly onto the transparent floor. As solid as I knew it was, there was still some part of my brain that quailed at walking out onto nothingness. I was sure I'd get used to it soon.  
  
No. No, I wasn't. I was sure I'd _escape_, long before I had the time to _get used_ to living on the Sith flagship!  
  
But for now, I was here, and there was really no point obsessing over it.  
  
I got dressed – the closet contained, predictably, all Sith robes, but I picked out a simple, ascetic-looking one that wasn't too offensive.  
  
Then I walked to the door, and froze. Someone had messed with the saber rack while I was sleeping. Instead of the Sith lightsaber I had stolen, the rack now contained a simple, steel-cased, double-bladed saber. _My own_ saber. I stared at it with wonder. I hadn't thought they would ever give this back. I turned it on, and the blades blossomed in the same yellow as always – they hadn't even put in a red crystal. It was mine in every way.  
  
When I clipped it to my robes, it felt like a homecoming.  
  
I stepped out of the bedroom and into the room Raga had called the meditation space, as if this were a Jedi Enclave. It was a big room, red vines on the ceiling twining together with white-flowered black vines that I didn't recognize. As in the bedroom, the floor and far wall were all transparisteel.  
  
The room was empty – no Raga and no HK-47 and nothing obvious to do. I couldn't leave the executive level, and I didn't _want_ to try to break into Revan's chambers. But there was a big pile of meditation cushions, and I set one out and kneeled down, performing my usual morning meditations as well as I could. It wasn't easy to focus – there was a lot on my mind. The Sith robes I was wearing weighed on me, as did how easily I'd been able to perform the role on the planet blow. I still had a bad feeling about how near Revan was, and about Raga's secret reason for trusting her. I mean... Revan could just _show up_, and I had no idea what I'd do then.  
  
It took a whole hour before Raga finally entered. I broke my meditation to greet her, and then I grinned. She looked very much like she'd rather be asleep. Clearly, she'd fallen into sloth after she left the Jedi.  
  
"Good morning, Raga!" I said cheerily.  
  
"Good morning, Bastila," she said dully. "You want any breakfast? Table's over here, there's a com to tell the droids what you want."  
  
"Sure," I said. Raga led me to a table in the corner, also made of transparisteel. Just the silver rim around the edge and the comm buttons at each seat provided any indication it was there.  
  
"Why all the the transparisteel?" I asked. "It's kind of unsettling."  
  
"It means we get to have views of the planets below, instead of just the stars above," Raga said. "It's also good for the Sith philosophy – after all, the whole planet is at our feet!" She started to cackle, which quickly devolved into genuine giggling.  
  
I rolled my eyes. Honestly, Raga could be so ridiculous.  
  
She reached out and pushed her comm button. "Pancakes with kala nuts and drulweed syrup, please," she said. "With my usual double caf."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," said the synthesized voice over the comms.  
  
I pressed my own button. "Uh... do you have Arakken meal?" I asked.  
  
"We do, ma'am," the droid said.  
  
"I'd like that, please. With a glass of Rim milk."  
  
"Of course, ma'am."  
  
Raga smiled. "Very ascetic. I'm sure your master would be proud."  
  
A hatch in the wall above us opened, a little serving droid setting our orders down on the table. Very speedy. We sat down, and started to eat. It was delicious as ever, but I couldn't help but think about Raga's plans as we ate. Feeding the whole galaxy. Could she and the Sith really do it?  
  
Raga finished her breakfast first, and then rolled a big, urn-looking thing into the center of the room. She plugged it in, and a shower of holo static flickered into view above it, then a loading ring. "So I was thinking we'd practice on my battle simulator today," Raga said. "It's specially modified. You should notice just... about... _now_."  
  
The hologram resolved into a Republic-standard battle map, and I gasped. I could _feel_ the crew of all the ships in the Force, just like in a real battle, the fighter pilots and capital ship helmsmen and the turret gunners and everything. "How on earth did you _do that_?" I asked. "That's incredible!"  
  
"Oh, secret sorcery gleaned from ancient artifacts. The Dark Side of the Force. You know, the usual." She grinned. "I've led a few real battles against you, so I'm eager to see what you can do in a nice friendly sim. Especially one that lets you try out your Force tricks."  
  
I sucked in a breath. I could do without knowing that we'd fought, even from opposing flagships. "You... you're not planning to study me, are you?" I asked. "I'll never let you take my Battle Meditation for the Sith!"  
  
Raga sighed. "You say that like we're bandits who stole a lightsaber because the case was shiny." She reached out her hand, and a meditation cushion sailed into it. She set it on the ground, and kneeled in front of the holoprojector.  
  
"Aren't you? What could you know about it?"  
  
"Oh, I certainly couldn't know anything about _battle meditation_, that name spoken only in awed whispers: a skill that blossomed fully-formed from nothingness, an inexplicable gift, no reason to think about how it works or how you came to possess it. Could anyone truly understand such a marvel?" She rolled her eyes and grinned. "The world doesn't work like that, Bastila, and neither does the Force, no matter how often you and the Masters say so. No, your special ability is fleet-scale sensitivity and manipulation, plus no small amount of tactical acumen. And you came by that talent the hard way, with study and practice."  
  
"Are you belittling my gift?" I said uncertainly, as I stood up from the table, kneeling down on a cushion next to her.  
  
"Quite the opposite," Raga said. "_I_ know how hard you worked, when everyone else just thinks you got lucky." She rolled her eyes. "As if."  
  
I smiled weakly. There was little use in pretending. Raga knew, just like always. "My master always said you have to make your own luck."  
  
"Yeah," Raga said wistfully. "Mine too."  
  
"But how do you know all this?" I asked. "You can't use battle meditation yourself – were you just studying me?"  
  
"Yes, I can." She shrugged. "All of our best commanders learned, to some extent."  
  
For a moment, I just blinked at her, gaping. "They... they told me I was the only one," I breathed. "That no Jedi had used my techniques in many years."  
  
"Well, we had all left the Jedi Order by then..." She wore her usual smirk – but then she sighed, scooted a little closer, and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. "Don't worry about it, Bastila. Really. You're better than any of us at mass-scale manipulation. You truly are a prodigy, to be such a master of your technique at age nineteen."  
  
"You think so?" I said. The look on my face was half overjoyed, and half concerned about being overjoyed.  
  
"Of course I do! I wouldn't try so hard to recruit you if I didn't." She squeezed my shoulder, then scooted back, so we were sitting side-by-side. "But there's another reason I want you. Even for you, it would have taken years to learn all this... which meant that you started training around when Revan went to war." She smiled crookedly, raising an eyebrow. "Wonder why."  
  
I sucked in a breath, my face freezing in shock and horror and fear. I was Revan's enemy, her Jedi opposite! I couldn't _admire_ her, and I certainly couldn't have started training because of her! I had never told _anyone_ why I started training! Master Vrook had guessed, and I'd thought he was the only one in the galaxy.  
  
But Raga just _knew_. Again. Somehow. And my reaction had confirmed it.  
  
"T-that isn't possible," I stammered, a worthless excuse bubbling up far too late.. "If I really i-idolized Revan, why wouldn't I have joined the Mandalorian Wars?" Oh, god. Why did I say 'idolized'? Raga didn't say that!  
  
"You were too young," she said lightly, pretending I hadn't just embarrassed myself. "Only fourteen. The youngest Revan ever took was sixteen, and that was only once." She sat back down on her cushion, thinking to herself, calm even as I was melting down. "But then, maybe we should have taken you anyway. After all, you were only eighteen when you first led a fleet. A year younger than Revan was when she did the same. I doubt anyone mentioned that to you – comparing you to that other Savior of the Republic must have been quite the faux pas. But _you_ knew, and you were proud."  
  
I sat there and stared, my bad pazaak face getting even worse as Raga just _kept on being right_ somehow.  
  
"C'mon, admit it," Raga said, smiling playfully at me. "I'm a huge Bastila Shan fangirl. It's only fair."  
  
"I... I... Fine! Yes, I admired Revan!" I took a moment to catch my breath. Saying that had taken something out of me. "B-but that was when she was a Jedi and a hero of the Republic! Now she's a traitor driven mad by the Dark Side! How could I admire her now?!"  
  
"I am all of those things and more," Raga said, still infuriatingly calm. "Do you truly think so little of me?"  
  
The words echoed through my mind, and I blinked. _Traitor driven mad by the Dark Side._ Raga was one. But it just... it didn't feel the _same_! "It... it's not that simple! I mean, you said you left the Republic for a r-reason, right? And you're _not_ driven mad by the Dark Side, not any more! I mean, you even healed!"  
  
"I appreciate that," Raga said. She moved around a little, scooting her cushion around with the Force while she was still sitting on it until she was in front of me, close enough to touch. "I wish I'd met you five years ago, back when all this started."  
  
"I tried," I muttered, my cheeks heating up. "Revan and Malak came to Dantooine a few times, and I tried to slip out and see them, but my Master always seemed to know, and he'd stop me."  
  
"A watchful Master can be a wonderful thing," Raga said. "He was scared I would recruit you. With good reason. As young as you were, you had drive, intelligence, power, and most of all, the compassion we so deeply needed. I wish I'd recruited you years ago – by the time you were sixteen or seventeen, you could really have made a difference for us. I would have made the exception for you, if I knew."  
  
I would have left in a heartbeat, if someone like her asked me. I wouldn't even have had to think about it for long. "I would have fallen to the Dark Side if I had," I muttered, staring through the floor at the planet below.  
  
"Maybe. Maybe not. I'd like to think you could have made a difference," Raga said. She sighed, rocking back on her heels, looking up toward the ceiling for a moment as she thought. "Most of all," she finally said, "I wish that we had never disappointed you, that we never gave you cause to turn away from us. That the faith you once had in us remained unbroken, even today."  
  
My heart ached. I didn't want to admit it, but I wished that, too.  
  
"When Jedi joined us in the Mandalorian Wars, it was with pride, always. Head held high, certain that they were doing the right thing." She finally looked back to me, her mouth twisted in bitterness and regret. "I wish you could do the same today. I... I wish we'd founded an Empire that any Jedi would take pride in joining. But we didn't."  
  
"No," I whispered. "You didn't."  
  
"When was it that you turned away?" Raga said, sounding almost as choked up as I felt. "Was it the Imperial Declaration of Independence? Or when Admiral Karath glassed Telos? Was it earlier? The battle at Malachor? Or was it just a week ago, seeing Revan raise her lightsaber against you and... and seeing for yourself just how far she had fallen?"  
  
"Telos," I said, my voice shaky. "After the declaration, no one was really sure what you wanted. Were you going to sweep out Hutt space, the Unknown Regions, or maybe go after the Exchange? The Republic still admired you, and we... we looked for any excuse to believe you weren't truly going to betray us. Telos was when we all saw, for certain, what the Empire really was. Meeting Revan just confirmed it."  
  
"You're right. Telos wasn't what we aspired to be... but it's what we were." She looked down. The arms of the drydock below were opening beneath us as the _Infinite_ prepared to leave. "I felt the ravages of the Mandalorian War from across the galaxy, as if I were there. I screamed when Cathar fell, and afterward I was so sick I had to leave training for a few weeks. I went to war – both wars – because the Force wouldn't let me look away. But when Telos was destroyed, I was on the Star Forge. Inside its Dark aura, I didn't feel... _anything_. I only found out they'd destroyed the planet when I read the battle report that night. It didn't feel real. Still doesn't." She shook her head. "I should have done better."  
  
I nodded silently.  
  
"But enough regrets. I'm sane again, relatively speaking. And, Bastila, you're finally here with us. What matters now is moving forward." She smiled, letting go of all the tension that had built up. "Let's talk about that."  
  
"So this is the part where you ask me to join the Sith," I said shakily.  
  
"No," Raga said. "Not yet. Not soon. I won't ask you to reveal any secrets, either, or fight with the Empire, or learn to use the Dark Side, not until you say you're ready. If your loyalties still lie with the Republic, that's okay. I understand. I didn't turn overnight, either. But... I do have an offer for you."  
  
A breath hissed through my clenched teeth. Here it comes...  
  
"I'd like to train with you, while you're here. We'll study strategy, tactics, politics, history, and the Force. Try out the battle simulator. Keep spending time together." She shrugged. "That's it. Not so scary, is it?"  
  
"Not so scary, no," I echoed. "There's just one thing... Who _are_ you?"  
  
Raga took a deep breath. She'd been expecting this, I knew, but she clearly hadn't wanted this now.  
  
"You talk like you've been at the center of... of all of this! But I don't know who you are. I've never heard the name Raga before, a-and all the Sith upper ranks have long since been driven mad by the Dark Side! And I just don't know who you could be!" The last words were shouted, harsh and shrill. I stopped for a moment, trying to catch my breath, get myself under control. "Tell me," I whispered. "Please."  
  
She spent a few moments processing, then quirked an eyebrow. "Apparently, you've underestimated my sanity. Not sure what to think about that."  
  
I grimaced. So she was in the upper ranks, someone I really ought to know. And none of those were good options...  
  
"You haven't heard the name Raga before because it's fake. Well, sort of fake. It's from my husband's last name, Miraga." _Mako Miraga_, I completed. Sounded a lot friendlier than Darth Malak. "My real name is Rivasa Sajisatha. I was born to a noble family on Zaxenna and sent to the Jedi on Coruscant at age nine, where I met Mako and many of my other future companions. Please, call me Riva."  
  
Mmm. Riva. I turned it over in my head a little. It was a pretty name – I liked it. Seemed to fit her. And then a chill of realization spread through my body. I hadn't heard that name before – but it sounded all too much like a name _everyone_ knew.  
  
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you from the beginning – it's just too close to my old Mandalorian War nom de guerre." Her smile looked strained, and very, very tired. "Revan."  
  
_Revan_.  
  
Oh, Force.  
  
She wasn't lying. I could feel it. She was Darth Revan. And that was impossible. A million crazy truths started to roll through my head. Darth Revan saved my life. I have a Force bond with Darth Revan. I've spent hours and hours talking, playing, hiking, even eating alongside Darth Revan. I went on a _date_ with Darth Revan!  
  
_And it was all one big trick,_ said a bitter voice in the back of my head.  
  
Before that thought had even stopped echoing, I'd jumped to my feet, grabbed my saber, and pointed it at her head.  
  
"Relax," Revan said gently, still and unmoving. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Nothing about me has changed. You just know something new about me now." She looked up at me, making easy eye contact. Her smile seemed, of all things, _relieved_. Her voice was perfectly calm even with my saber inches from her face, and I was struck by how innocent she somehow looked.  
  
There was no sign of the Dark Side on her face. Her eyes had been faintly cloudy when we met, but that had receded, leaving them brilliantly blue. I had my lightsaber out, but she didn't have hers. She wasn't even carrying it – Revan was unarmed. She was still kneeling, on her cushion, on the ground. And she was a very small woman – I loomed over her, almost like Darth Malak might have loomed over me. She was far more powerful in the Force – she could probably defeat me without moving a muscle – but you couldn't tell that from the outside.  
  
If someone walked into this room who didn't know us, _I_ would look like the Sith, and _Darth Revan_ my innocent victim. And that was just... _crazy_.  
  
_She set this up!_ hissed an angry, horrified voice in the back of my head. _She wants you to back down!_  
  
Well, yeah. She probably did. Even the Raga I thought I knew would totally have done that.  
  
But that didn't mean this wasn't happening. That didn't mean it wasn't real. And listening to that angry voice – chopping the head off a kneeling, unarmed woman who had healed me, who had shown me nothing but friendship since I woke up – would still mean succumbing to the Dark Side, losing myself in the anger and fear of the revelation.  
  
Even if that woman happened to be Darth Revan.  
  
I shut my saber off, but kept it in my hand. "Why did you hide your name from me?" I asked.  
  
"From a certain point of view, hiding my name was the only way I could tell you who I was." I wished I could look as unruffled as Revan. "You know so much about me now, Bastila. And, to be clear, this _is_ me. I wasn't acting, just... just leaving the mask off. I haven't spent this much time with someone new in years. But if I'd told you I was Revan at the beginning, that might still be the only thing you knew about me."  
  
I'd talked to her for hours and hours. I did think I knew her well, at least the face she'd chosen to show me. If she'd told me at the beginning that she was Revan, would I have done any of that?  
  
No. I wouldn't have. Of _course_ I wouldn't. She was Darth fucking Revan, and absolutely everything would seem like a ploy, a trick, a way to turn me to the Dark Side. Even though I knew, deep inside myself, that the face she'd shown me wasn't false. That she was how she'd appeared to be. That Revan really was this... fun, intelligent, compassionate, magnetic person that I had somehow grown to like.  
  
"But how can you be so much like me?" was the whisper that eventually escaped me, barely audible over the chime in the background. The ship was about to move. "How is that _possible_?"  
  
"Our paths through life haven't been so different as that, have they?" Her voice was high-pitched, very different from Revan's almost shockingly deep tones, but the accent was just the same. And... I remembered, on the planet below, that she'd slipped into a lower register for just a moment. _That_ had sounded like Revan. "We were both talented, idealistic young Jedi, driven to leave the Order to help people. I recognized you the moment I first heard your story. Your masters did too, or they wouldn't have mistrusted you so. Seems you were the last to know." Her gaze shifted to the lightsaber in my hand, dormant, but still too close for comfort. "May I stand?"  
  
"G-go ahead," I said. I backed away, and she stood up gracefully – still much smaller than me, still unarmed, but at least not kneeling. Maybe it was stupid of me, but I was in no state to hold her at saberpoint.  
  
"So, now you know something of the depths I've fallen into." Revan's smile was worn, but hopeful. "But I think you also know something of why I did this, too. My good intentions and noble goals. That it didn't start in darkness, even if it ended up here. And that I'd like to find my way back out again, if I can."  
  
"Yes," I breathed.  
  
"My offer to you hasn't changed. I'd like to train and study together. No strings attached." Revan smiled, turning away a little. "I want to keep spending time with you. It's nice talking to someone who's not so jaded. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and we can discuss them all in time. But I think you know me well enough that you... you at least shouldn't be scared to talk to me."  
  
"I want to," I mumbled, looking down at the planet below. The ship lurched under my feet as it began to pull away from the station. "But I... I can't... I'm not ready to..."  
  
"That's okay," Darth Revan said. "Go. Take as long as you want to decide. You can have food sent to your cabin, if need be." She plucked on our bond, a strangely gentle sensation pulsing through the Force. "Come talk to me when you're ready. I'll have duties elsewhere in the ship, but you can always call me back, wherever I go."  
  
"I... I..." The words leaked from my mouth, hot and insubstantial, like gouts of steam. "I will." Then I turned and ran, scarcely even looking where I was going as I ran away from the woman I _couldn't_ care for.  
  
"Thank you, Bastila," I heard her whisper, as the door to my cabin – to _Malak's_ cabin, not mine! – shut behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to GlassGirlCeci, who beta read this chapter. She gets Revan's pancakes. Yum!


End file.
